I Mustn't Love You
by DocJorgensen
Summary: Keladry and Lord Wyldon are captured by the Scanrans and a mage who likes to enjoy his prisoners. What is Wyldon to do when Kel is taken advantage of? Eventually Kel/Wyldon.
1. Captured and Humiliated

_**Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever own anyone or anything in this fanfic except for the plot line. That I fear, I must be accountable for. **_

**Dedication: To Sirynta, for writing one of the only other Kel/Wyldon fics! I bow down to you, for your courage in writing an unusual pairing. +Tips hat to you+ **

Kel slowly stretched. She was uneasy about the thought of moving through enemy territory. It was a slender strip of land that thrust its way forward, but going through it was short and the quickest way to the refugee fort. With a company of soldiers or even a few knights the journey would have been acceptable but not with Lord Wyldon and a few scribes. Not that scribes were unimportant but they were not usually proficient warriors. The Scanrans were especially disposed to raiding in that particular area and Kel and Lord Wyldon would not be able to protect the party if they were raided.

Nevertheless, Kel was eventually able to sleep, albeit clinging to her sword. Kel woke at dawn, as was her usual want, and began to do the most complex dance with a glaive that she had ever learned, to ease the tension of wrongness in her shoulders. When she finally thrust the butt of her glaive down into the damp grass and leaned against it, she turned around slowly, as she was unable to see Jump. When she spotted him leaning against Lord Wyldon's legs, she made her face Yamani smooth to hide the light chuckle that came bubbling up, unbidden from the back of her throat. She was surprised to see Lord Wyldon up at dawn, he had never done that previously, nor had he ever watched her glaive dance before. He was leaned against a fence post, arms crossed against his chest. When he spoke, his voice was low and thoughtful;

"I see it was a waste of time to teach you the spear, Mindelan."

"Probably, sir." He raised one eyebrow, his right hand reaching down to scratch at Jump's ear.

"Didn't I teach to be definitive, Mindelan?" He barked.

"Yes, sir." He relaxed.

"Only probably? Judging by your competence with that weapon, I would say definite." Lord Wyldon sighed, his hand draped across the top of Jump's head.

"But I would never let you use a glaive, would I?"

"No, sir."

"Are you ready, Mindelan?"

"My Lord Wyldon, if you can wake the scribes at this hour, the Scanrans will be so terrified that they will just surrender in droves to you." Too late, Kel realized what she had said, and she bowed her head in deference ready to receive a scolding.

"I take that as a no, Mindelan?" Lord Wyldon said with humor. Ever since the incident with Fort Haven's refugees, only rarely had he been disgruntled and emotionless with her. She had even learned that he had a devious sense of humor, if it was rare to see.

"That is correct, my Lord. But I can be ready shortly if you wish."

"That will do, Mindelan. I've decided that leaving at this dawn hour might prevent raiding."

"Yes, my Lord." Kel was still vaguely uneasy but she went to groom and saddle Peachblossom. Only when she had gathered her glaive, long sword, and a longbow, did she feel that she was ready. Leading Peachblossom, she met with Lord Wyldon in front of the scribe's tent.

"Are the scribe's ready, my Lord, of shall we rouse them?" She rubbed at Peachblossom's neck, holding the reins loosely in her gloved fist.

"Mindelan, they will be ready. Would you tell Jesslaw to bring Heart?" Kel ducked her head in the affirmative. "Good." Wyldon nodded and reached for Peachblossom's reins. Quick as a whip, he moved to bite but Lord Wyldon smacked him on the muzzle.

"None of that." He said. Kel released a sigh of relief and walked away to find Owen of Jesslaw, Lord Wyldon's squire. When she had retrieved Heart from Owen, and tried to ignore the worried look he sent her way, she returned to the tent and shook her head when Lord Wyldon shoved Peachblossom's reins at Kel impatiently and ducked into the scribe's tent. Seconds later, she heard loud apologetic voices and Lord Wyldon's cool measured tones. He strode out seconds later, rubbing the back of his neck, his dark eyes snapping fire.

"Will they be ready presently, my Lord?"

"They will be ready, Mindelan." Kel's breath frosted in the air and she stamped her feet. Finally she swung up into Peachblossom's saddle, got the kinks out of her arms and neck and urged Peachblossom forward. She got up in place beside Lord Wyldon and breathed a sigh of relief. The air might not be filled with snowflakes yet, but the wind was brisk and chilled Kel. It felt good to be up on Peachblossom's broad warm back. She whistled to Jump who hopped into the carrier on Peachblossom's back, Normalcy did not continue indefinitely however, with both Kel and Lord Wyldon being reticent. Within moments of starting the perilous trek to New Hope, one of the scribes rode up and began to try to converse with Lord Wyldon who sat silent and completely still, only the minute flexing in his facial muscles told of his irritation. Without warning, he galloped ahead and slid Heart to the other side of Kel, far enough from the scribe that she would not be able to talk to him. The scribe looked affronted only for a moment when she began to chatter on to Kel. At first she gave affirmatives and nods to show that she was still attentive but Kel soon had had enough. She turned to Lord Wyldon and asked;

"Is she so very desperately needed?" Her voice, she was horrified to note, had both a whining and pleading note in it.

"Unfortunately yes, Mindelan." He said, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. But he continued "I'm sure Sir Nealan would know of a spell to temporarily mute a person. Until then, I am afraid, Mindelan, that we will have to put up with her."

"Yes, my Lord." Kel said firmly, and proceeded to say more softly to herself; "Just like Raoul."

"What was that Mindelan?" His sharp authoritative tone cut through her innocent expression and supposed listening to the scribe.

"I said, my Lord that you were just like Raoul." Kel shut her mouth and dared go no further, if he queried further, she would be fighting him in a duel.

"How, Mindelan?" Lord Wyldon did not sound amused.

"Because, my Lord, when I was a squire under Raoul, I practiced jousted with him." Wyldon's mouth curved up on one side; evidently he too knew what jousting with Raoul was like. "After the first time I did so, I informed Raoul that he was a bad man because he made me do logistics after he addled my brains." Kel's mouth was in a straight line and she stared straight ahead, flushed with embarrassment. Lord Wyldon's mouth briefly settled into a smile before he set his face firmly and said gravely;

"I'm sure you deserved it, Mindelan." Kel almost choked with the shock that he was not disapproving and she looked over at him.

"Yes, my Lord."

Lord Wyldon was disappointed. Suddenly she had started to show life beyond a machine that said 'yes sir' and 'no sir' and with one roar from him and she had hopped right back into that role like a scared bunny. He just could not figure the girl out. She was a chivalrous knight and an exceptional commander but with him it was as if Mindelan was too terrified of him to do anything other than jump through the hoops that he required. He liked Mindelan even if she was a girl.

Sometime later, still hearing inane talk, Kel said;

"My Lord, I may never forgive you."

"Mindelan, far be it from me to say anything, and I would understand if you never forgave me, but rather you than me.'

"Very well, my Lord." Kel said her face completely blank but inwardly she chuckled. "But begging pardon, and meaning no ill will, my Lord is a wicked man."

"That may be Mindelan, that may be." Lord Wyldon bit his lip to keep from laughing and rubbed Heart's neck. Suddenly, Jump barked and leapt from Peachblossom's and Kel halted, inwardly tense, all mirth gone. The signal for an ambush, a single bark.

"An ambush, my Lord. What's the plan of action?" Kel thought that she might have been able to take command if necessary but Lord Wyldon was far more experienced than she. He rubbed at his right arm and asked;

"How many?" Two claw scores in the dirt, twenty.

"Jump says at least twenty, my Lord." Jump barked once. -Yes-

"Damn. Mindelan, we'll have to fight, we're trapped in this gorge." Kel saw that he was right; they would never be able to retreat in the gorge. To the scribes he gave one quick order; "Arm yourselves, make haste." His sword rasped as he drew it from the sheath and he hurriedly readied his shield. Kel held an arrow to her bow, glaive loosed. A gleam in the conifer, an arrow sang through the air, sprouting from the eye of a Scanranian ambusher. Another arrow, another down. Kel was alone with an arrow and a target, nothing else. Breathe in. Release. When Peachblossom neighed impatiently, Kel broke out of her trancelike state and reached for her glaive, coolly noting twelve dead with griffin arrows lodged in their eyes or throats. She sliced a man in two, from the collarbone to the waist and freed the blade from the bone in which it had lodged. Slice a man in the throat who held his axe too high. Hit a man in the head with the butt, slice up his belly. When she became more aware of the fight around her, she saw Lord Wyldon hard pressed to hold off four men, and one archer who looked ready to shoot. Snowflakes hung suspended in the blue sky, as Peachblossom tramped the snow. Time seemed to be in flux. Kel knew she wouldn't reach him in time. She slashed a man's throat and jumped over a horse's corpse. Eternity to see an arrow fly. The sky was blue, the sun was bright as Kel prepared to live and see another good man die. She threw her head up to the heavens and gave a cry that was half growl and half shriek and hurled her glaive. She scrambled for her sword and watched the arrow soar, the archer's cry as the glaive lodged in his chest. Lord Wyldon's face wincing as he grasped at his bleeding arm, and parried another blow. In her fury, Kel cut down the first man and stabbed the second in a hairsbreadth. Peachblossom took care of the third and Jump and Lord Wyldon finished off the fourth.

"Is it bad?" Kel panted, slumping on Peachblossom's neck.

"Mindelan, I'll live." Kel cursed, coming from Lord Wyldon that could mean any number of things. She moved away and began killing Scanranians who looked no older than boys and whose blood would stain her hands red. Her blade was red all the way to the hilt when Lord Wyldon called to her, resting against a tree and bandaging his arm, when a huge brute attacked him. He blocked and parried throwing all his strength into it, and felt blood dripping down his fingers. The Scanranians must have had reinforcements, Kel and he had killed far more than twenty.

"Mindelan," gasping for breath and he missed the mailed fist that hit the side of his head, knocking him from the saddle onto the ground, unconscious. Heart reared and he hit the bandit in the chest, knocking him to the ground and stomping him to death. Kel rode quickly to his side and dismounted, setting Peachblossom into the fray and she wheeled and turned, cutting down people from every angle. Sweat stung her eyes, and then she gripped the handle of her sword hard enough to make her palms ache. Her arms shook with fatigue and her vision blurred with blood loss. The scribes had been slain far earlier and as someone came up to fight, her knees buckled. She got to one knee and parried a blow, her breath hitching in her throat as she lunged forward under his blade and stabbed him. Kel landed onto of Lord Wyldon, who didn't make a sound, Kel desperately tried to push herself up but pain wracked her ribs then her head and she rubbed at her forehead, sticky with blood. Suddenly she had two hands instead of one and her vision had black edges. Dimly she was aware of someone lifting her up, and binding her hands. Then she was thrown on a horse as what felt like an ogre stepped on her chest.

She woke suddenly when water was dumped on her head and she lunged upwards, only to be stopped by the collar around her neck and she fell to her knees. Her captor unchained her, and she wobbled, her legs weak and she almost fell when they dumped something on top of her. Straining her eyes sidewise and moving her head slowly, Kel stared into the handsome bloody face of her unconscious commander. While Lord Wyldon was particularly tall, only three or four inches then Kel herself, he was quite muscled and heavy. She staggered and then started to walk, biting her cheek as her long forgotten injuries came to light and began to throb. One foot in front the other, for what seemed to be eternity. The sun made a slow downward trek, even as Kel trudged onwards. When darkness pressed through the trees and the Scanranians stopped for the night, Kel kept going, her body set on autopilot. When the end of a halberd hit the back of her knees, she fell, her body impacting the ground with the full weight of Wyldon on her shoulders. Her hands were tied in front of her so she couldn't feel for it but Kel knew that there would be scratches and blood on her face. When a moan came from on top of her, Kel tried to move but her face was only ground further into the dirt. 'At least, under Wyldon it was warm' Kel thought dreamily. But her warmth was snatched from her as the oppressive weight rolled off of her. When a hand grabbed her arm and rolled her over, setting Kel into a sitting position, she bit back a cry of pain. One or more of her ribs were definitely broken.

"Mindelan, listen to me." Wyldon's voice was rough and gravelly, but still carried the ring of authority.

"Are you wounded, Keladry?" There was blood encrusted on the side of his head and in his graying hair, what remained of it. Kel switched her gaze to the angry scab on his upper arm from the arrow furrow, and the long gash on his chest. She shrugged away his hands and sat up, her chin set obstinately and her eye spilling fire.

"I'm fine, my Lord." Why did Kel feel so angry about Wyldon expressing concern?

"But perhaps a healer might be wise in your case?" He shook his head, looking at her and leaned forward, catching her chin and holding her head still. He pulled a rag out of the bowl of water by his side and gently cleaned her eye, closed shut with dried, encrusted blood.

"I'm not sure you've looked at yourself properly lately." Wyldon murmured, dabbing at the cut on her brow. Kel shivered, the water was cold and she was chilled already. Knowing that warmth was of greater importance she attempted to stand and walk, generating body heat, but counted without her stiff knees and Wyldon. His voice was exasperated as he growled;

"Sit down, Mindelan." As he pushed on Kel's shoulder, she gave out a cry .His fingers were sticky with Kel's blood and he let out a curse, leaning over her shoulder as he took a look at her back.

"Damn, Mindelan why didn't you tell me? I would've have thought that you might have informed me that you had been horsewhipped!"

"You didn't ask." Kel muttered, wincing as he rubbed at the long, bloody welts.

"Must I always? I thought you had more common sense." He said as the rag in his hand turned red and sticky.

"Says the man who replied 'I'll live.'?" Kel bit her lip as he cleaned a particularly deep wound.

"Point taken, Mindelan." He leaned back onto his haunches and rested the rag in the bowl. Brisk winter air seemed to cut right through Kel and she huddled, wrapping arms around herself as she shook and her teeth chattered. Wyldon set the bowl on the ground and carefully wrapped a blanket around her, swearing more at her pale face and lips. He would have to get her off the cold, snowy ground. But the Scanranians would not grant him any luxuries beyond a blanket and a bowl of water with a rag as well as some rude gestures. Her hazel eyes closed quickly but the shade of her lips was still a pale blue. Very carefully, knowing that this would hurt on his part and for Kel's, he lifted her onto his legs and her weight pulled on the scab on his chest and Wyldon muffled a small groan. When Kel woke the next morning, she was cocooned in warmth. Her entire body hurt and she stifled a cry getting up, Kel looked at the warmth she had been lying on and she burned with embarrassment. She had been lying on Wyldon and enjoyed it. How could she? He had been her training master and he was her commander, and of course the fact that he was currently espoused. What kind of a chivalrous knight was she? But he was a man, and a very good looking, long, lean one, whispered a very dirty part of her mind. Kel scowled and bent over to pick up the thin bowl of gruel the Scanranians had dished out at her feet. As she returned to her standing position, she sloshed a great deal of the gruel on the ground because of the agony slicing through her arm, signs of protest from her dislocated shoulder. She shifted the bowl to her other hand and staggered over to Lord Wyldon. Kel sipped at what remained in the bowl until the amount was halved and placed it beside her, easing into a cross legged sitting position. Kel slowed her breathing and began to meditate, sinking into wells of water, completely painless. She was Yamani, there was no pain. When a large callused hand gripped her shoulder, water was not enough. She elbowed into the intruder's ribs and went for the throat, cutting off his breath. He looked at her impassively, his dark eyes were hard and cold, and he looked like the Wyldon of her page training days, not the one of the last few months. Kel relaxed her hold and removed her hands and said;

"My apologies, Lord Wyldon, you startled me." He said nothing but the creases in his forehead deepened and his lips were a thin line. Does he suddenly think that I've become an easily startled female? Kel held his gaze and tried not to look startled as he rolled to his knees, as smoothly as a panther.

"Never mind, Mindelan."

"Yes, sir." Kel offered him the bowl of gruel, which he sipped at, tentatively at first, to space out the disgusting congealed mess and then swallowed in great doses. Lord Wyldon frowned in distaste and set the bowl from him.

"Did any of the scribes survive?" His almost condescending tone hurt Kel's pride, despite the fact that she knew that he would be feeling guilty about the scribes demise.

"No, my lord." His frown deepened and his eyes hooded over, and he fiddled with his fingers.

"Why did they capture us and not the scribes?"

"Think Mindelan, why?" Lord Wyldon rubbed his temples, a sure sign of irritation in him. Kel knew it well enough.

"Oh."

"Mindelan, you mustn't forget that you are a distinguished knight of the realm."

"Both of us, sir." Kel frowned and ran a hand through her hair, making bloody streaks.

"That too, I suppose." He dusted his hands off on his bloody jerkin and rose to his feet.

"Now Mindelan, are you going to tell me just how much bandaging I am going to have to do, or have you been magically healed during the night?" He sounded displeased and cross at the same time and Kel offered him her dislocated arm, wincing as he ran light fingers down it. Lord Wyldon glowered.

"Well, Mindelan, your arm isn't broken, just dislocated. Might I suggest holding onto something so I don't hurt you more than necessary." What a jolly thought, Kel thought as she braced herself. Wyldon pulled on her shoulder, and surges of pain flared from her shoulder, as her shoulder slipped into its socket with a click. Kel knew that bruises would be forming from the grip of his hands near her elbow and on top of her collarbone. He rested for a moment, braced on his thighs, looking at her this way and that like a bird of prey. Which is what he looked like, with the tufts of his hair sticking up in the back and his hooked nose. One of the Scanranians rode up and turning to Wyldon in the saddle, gave a slight nod, saying

"My Lord Wyldon of Cavall, you are a prisoner of war, expect to be treated as such. Any property on or with your person no longer belongs to you. We march in fifteen minutes-." Suddenly he was interrupted by a foot soldier with an axe whispering to him, and his grim smile turned to a frown

"Zear-hem" He spat as he removed one leg from the stirrup and kicked Wyldon in the chest, knocking him, face first into Kel. They sprawled together. Wyldon had his head on Kel's shoulder and one hand dangerously placed on her hip. Kel's eyes were closed and she was muttering under her breath;

"Must not kill, Scanranians. Must not kill…Scanranians." She opened her eyes, and saw Wyldon get up. He had splotches of color in his face and he looked ready to kill, when he spoke his voice was quick and lethal;

"Mindelan. Get up." Kel obeyed, getting out of the gray mud, which was not particularly objectionable since she was already covered in it.

"My Lord, do you need a healer?" Bad question, Kel.

"Mindelan, I would gladly, seek the tender ministrations of Queenscover if only he could remove me from this situation!" Kel could only swear very softly. My Lord Wyldon was angry. She launched into the tiger's den.

"What situation, My Lord?" He had been perfectly calm before as a prisoner of war, and no other such situation had arise. Kel knew Scanran but had not understood the last word. Kel suggest very tentatively;

"Does it have to do with what he said?" She gestured to the mounted man some distance away. He said;

"Not up-to-date on Scanranian swears, Mindelan? Too dirty for the Lady Knight?" His tone was mocking and cruel. Lord Wyldon had a dangerously bad temper but he had steel control. Was renowned for it. But now he was raging like the Lioness.

"I'll make sure to study up on them, next time I prepare for war." No honorific. Kel was surprised that she hadn't killed him yet, or rather that he hadn't killed her. She was known to be cool. Apparently not. But suddenly she was in control again, he sighed, saying;

"Zear, means whore, Mindelan."

"Whore?"

"Yes, whore. Mistress. Prostitute. Harlot-"

"I suppose, applying to me?" Kel wasn't surprised.

"Yes."

"Ah well. My Lord, ignore it." His eyes took on a canny glow.

"Just like you, I suppose, Mindelan?"

"Yes My Lord. Only I wish…"

"Mindeliian!" Get on with it, I know My Lord.

"That they would come up with something new. Being called a whore all the time does get exceedingly wearying." Kel suddenly put two and two together. "But 'hem' means Master doesn't it? Referring to training master? 'Or with your person…?" Oh. They thought she was his whore? Oh Mithros!

"I'm sorry, my lord." Wyldon looked astonished;

"What's to be sorry about, Mindelan? I've dealt with such things before!"

"Yes, but … why was he suddenly so forceful about it?"

"Because your name is rather famous, Mindelan. 'Protector of the Small'." She almost groaned, "That was rather derogatory to you. He didn't speak to you, just thought of you as a whore!"

"Very well, but if you judge by rumor, I'm the easiest slut to bed in Tortall." He clenched his jaw, and his knuckles went white.

"At first he assumed I was just the owner of a female slave. But once he was told who you were, you became a whore. Rather insulting, actually."

"Why?"

"Mindelan, for other people, being assumed one or that you are in the regular process of using a slut is insulting."

"Yes, sir.' Kel didn't answer anymore but Wyldon kept speaking;

"Doesn't that bother you? Mindelan?" Wyldon's voice was soft and questioning almost gently, despite his earlier rage.

"No, My Lord. It was … Joren's favorite insult. I knew it wasn't true, so why be concerned?"

"Other knights are supposed to be chivalrous, Mindelan." Wyldon looked contemplative, a new mood in him. A Scanran walked by, gesturing with his spear butt and saying in somewhat guttural Common;

"Time to march, My Lord. Wench!" The last word had a sneer attached and they began to walk. Kel just stifled the pain in her limbs and began to limp forward, unconcerned by the frequent groping of the soldiers or by the jeers. Lord Wyldon however was standing very straight and stiffly, his hands clenching and unclenching. Kel knew better than to try to soothe him and ignored him as well as the snickers and the catcalls of their guards. It was near noon when, Wyldon finally lost control. The same guard as had previously kicked him in the chest, rode up between Kel and Wyldon, rubbing Kel's shoulder with his knee. Kel ignored him, but his inroads grew bolder. He winked at Wyldon and leaned down from the saddle and caressed Kel's behind. Kel's teeth clenched tight and her wrists bled as she scraped against her bonds. Wyldon reacted faster than a striking snake, pulling the younger man down from the saddle, and with one blow snapped his neck. When the other Scanranian soldiers began to take notice, they jabbered at each other, too fast for Kel to understand. Finally a group descended upon Wyldon and pulled him away from the guard's body, beating him fair in the process.

Kel struggled free, seeing the blood running down from a cut above Wyldon's eye. That was the catalyst for the too-tightly wound guards, who set upon her, beating her to the ground. Too nervous to even try sexual advances. Kel just rolled into a ball, taking the beating as best she could. When the beating was over, they hauled her up, and led her over to a horse, also standing by was Lord Wyldon. Kel was first made to get on the horse, then Lord Wyldon. Only one horse to spare, now. The Scanranian soldiers, after much bickering, bound them together at the waist. Finally they set off again, leading Kel's horse by the reins. Kel was thankful that Lord Wyldon couldn't see her face, bright pink with color. Tied the way she was, Kel could feel every inch of Lord Wyldon sliding against her, which wasn't something she needed at the present. Nor did it help that Wyldon's hands were bound in front of Kel, effectively making him press against her. Over and over she told herself that she wasn't supposed to feel anything for this man, but the fire licking at her insides gave her away. But her embarrassment was a bucket of ice-cold water as she remembered exactly who this man was. He was Lord Wyldon, who was married, and a good deal older than she, who was her training master, and who was quite against emotion of any kind. But Kel was surprised to hear a voice whispered in her ear;

"Not one word, Mindelan. Ever. Do you understand?" The stubble on his jaw made

her skin prickle and she almost nodded fervently but then she decided against lapsing back into unconsciousness and replied softly;

"Most decidedly, My Lord." She didn't know whether he heard her or not because they rode the whole day in silence and Kel was glad for it. Talking made her head pound and her jaw ache, and besides, silence was infinitely better than remembering the currently mortifying situation that she was saddled with. At some point, Kel must have fallen asleep.

Lord Wyldon suffered in silence. Mindelan was asleep, her head cradled against his chest. He could just rest his chin on top of her light brown hair. So very much like his wife's. But why had he felt so enraged? Not about the treatment, he had been treated as a prisoner of war before. So too had he had injuries and treated them on others, Serving wenches were far more skilled at creating sexual tension and embarrassment, he had experienced plenty of that. So had Mindelan.

_So why did the thought give him so much pause that Mindelan was regarded as such a slut?_

Author's Note: A beta would be much appreciated for this fic. Much revising will have to be done. I don't have either Kel or Wyldon quite the way I would like them, so that will have to be worked. Please review and tell me things to work on. I will ignore flames. Period. However, if you supply evidence and or have a good reason for the critism I thank you, because I need that.

Just one more thing, this is what I think Wyldon should look like;

/union-generals/sherman/pictures/william-sherman-portrait.htm

**Read and Review, please! **

_In the end, we will remember, not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends..._


	2. Falling Apart

Erm, matters have come to my attention by a few reviewers and I thought I would set the record straight about these things;

I am aware of the fact that Wyldon is married. This is canon. He will not be cheating on his wife. Enough said. More will be covered in the story, as Kel also will be confused about this.

Wyldon is too old for Kel. Wyldon's age is not classified in canon and as such the author has the right to decide his age for him, within limits of course. Now, Wyldon says he has been knight-master for fifteen years or so when Kel is a squire, so say he served as a knight somewhere else for five or six years so, I would have to say that he is probably only in his early forties. Which is pretty old for a knight. And quoting from Happy Endings by _Margaret Atwood _"but older men can keep it up longer so on the whole she has a fairly good time…" I personally, don't think that twenty years is that large a gap. Take for instance Daine and Numair. That relationship is canon, and Numair is how much older than Daine? Twenty, twenty five years? In the face of that, I don't think that Kel/Wyldon is that weird.

Wyldon is a conservative and doesn't like Kel. Unlike #2, it was true that Wyldon didn't like Kel, not because of her personality but because she was a girl. Obviously Wyldon likes her character because he says that it would have been better if she were a boy, several times. From of course, one of my two favorite scenes in the quartet, this being the part where Wyldon sits in her room and on her bed and feeds Jump! This of course, is a pretty interesting scene, now that I've gone back and read it with my Kel/Wyldon lenses on. Seriously, good material in that conversation. And later Wyldon would have appeared to have revised his opinion of woman knights as he kisses Kel in Lady Knight! (: Which is, by the way, my favorite scene ever : ).

_Dedication: To soldiers, the noble, gallant knights of our times. _

_For God and Country. I salute you, may your souls and all the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God rest in peace.  
_

**Warning: This chapter contains mention of rape, depictions of torture and violence. **

His musing were interrupted by the large fortification rising out of the ground before him.

"Dismount, prisoners." Easier said than done, Wyldon thought, and a knife cut the rope binding the two. He slide from the saddle expecting Mindelan to dismount but when he looked, she was slumped in the saddle. He almost groaned in frustration. Suddenly she was slumping to the ground, arms outstretched, a flurry of golden hazel hair. Wyldon caught her gently and noted her returned lapse into unconsciousness. As he strode up the steps to the palace which he had seen, he almost snorted at the indefensibility of such a place. The most gentle-looking, effeminate male Wyldon had ever seen strode forward. He flipped his strawberry blonde hair, flowing down to his waist and placed a hand on his hip, waving the fingers on his other hand.

"This shall not do," he cried silkily, "How can I enjoy the most beautiful maiden of Tortall, virgin knight, if she is injured so." He waved a hand over her forehead and she moaned, curling into him, hooking one arm around him. "What have the fiends done to her? I said she was not to be injured more than necessary to capture her! She must be healed, if I can have much fun with her. Follow me." He leaned inward and gently ran, no caressed, his hand down Mindelan's cheek and she, her eyes unfocused, moved away from his touch and pressed her face into Wyldon's waist. He held her, fearing the mage's advances and feeling possessive at the same time.

When Kel woke, it was to the grim visage of Lord Wyldon sitting against a grey wall. Nothing hurt and it was no longer so cold. He had his arms crossed over his chest and he watched her with dark, intelligent eyes. Gingerly, Kel levered herself up on one elbow and glanced his way. Wyldon had his lanky legs crossed at the ankle and he didn't move but he wasn't asleep. Kel could almost see the frost on the stone around him. The Stump? More like the icicle!

Kel sat up impatiently and resisted the urge to pull her knees up to her chest and wrap her arms around them. Though comforting it would make her seem childish and beyond that, weak and womanish. Wyldon would not approve. Wyldon pressed his lips together and fiddled with the wedding band on his finger, Kel realized with a start, that he too had been healed. Kel desperately needed to break the silence, Wyldon looked as though he would continue to stare at her until he bored holes right through.

"Lord Wyldon, what happened while I was unconscious?" He cleared his throat and spoke in short clipped bursts, unlike his normally smooth baritone;

"The mage, Stephen is his name, healed us both and then deposited us here…He said he would return his attentions to us later." Wyldon turned his head sharply, and he pulled in a breath guiltily, Mindelan need not know of the other more embarrassing things that Stephen had said about her. The thought sent a chill down Wyldon's spine as he thought of exactly how, and of the great length that Stephen had proposed of the fun that he was going to have.

"When can we expect his tender ministrations?" Kel said, slightly less brave inside. What was this front that she was keeping up for Lord Wyldon?

"Anytime one would expect." Kel nodded slightly, her face blank but her insides quivering. How could he be so calm? The door of the room opened slightly then creaked open fully, a soldier entered, carrying a spear, a servant following behind. He gestured with the spear and the servant laid down a jug, loaf of bread and a slab of cheese, which rather than a pale yellow was the translucent yellow of an unpalatable, hard cheese. The servant crept away quietly.

The soldier stayed put, playing with something in his gauntleted hands. Kel released with a start that it was a collar, complete with long chain lead. She swallowed down her apprehension as the soldier approached her and she backed away slightly. She fidgeted, prepared to fight to get away, but unexpectedly the soldier struck out and hit her on the face, Kel fell back and the soldier quickly clamped the collar around her neck. Wyldon jumped up and rushed to Kel as the door shut with a bang as the soldier marched out. Wyldon approached her.

"May I?" Kel was uneasy but gave a slight nod of her head. Wyldon stepped closer, so that there was barely any space between them and Kel bent her head. His arm gently clipped her shoulder, so close was he to her. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, and she got goose bumps as Wyldon lightly, tantalizingly, slipped his fingers underneath the collar, and round the entire circumference of the collar. He gently pried at the clasp on the back of the collar, unintentionally touching Kel, whispering strokes that drew responses all up and down her body. Finally, he stepped back and said;

"I don't think we can get it off, Mindelan. It must be made with magic. I'm sorry." He hated to see another knight in such a state, collared as if an animal. Even he didn't treat his dogs in such a state.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, my lord."

The uneasy silence grew and splintered as both knights stared somewhat hesitantly at the paltry meal before them. Neither moved to partake of it. At last Lord Wyldon looked up and said wryly;

"Such a spread, Mindelan."

"As the senior knight, my lord, you must say grace and pay thanks for the palatial meal set at our tables." Kel just saved herself from smirking and watched Wyldon as he grimaced, almost like Neal, forced to eat his vegetables.

"As my lady commands." The nod of Wyldon's head was almost a bow and Kel simply folded her hands.

"We give thanks for the food set before us, but give us the courage…" Kel thought that he would be asking for help for what was to occur to them in the hours ahead but he went on a completely different course "To consume this meal, Oh Mithros." Kel's shoulders shook as she fought to contain her laughter.

"So mote it be." Kel whispered the response because she was so out of breath from laughing. Neither moved. Kel met his eyes and he scowled,

"You are courageous enough to be a hero, Mindelan. Hard work is not a burden to you. I request you eat first."

"Bravery which you yourself have, My Lord. I must insist upon on my own unfit capabilities. You may dine first." Kel tried to discharge the situation with tact, that would somehow result in her not being forced to do the arduous task of eating first. Wyldon lifted one eyebrow, and having the grace to look desperate and said;

"Mindelan, if you would?" He gestured with his fingers towards the food and Kel, knowing an ultimatum when she saw one, walked to the bread and hunkered down. Kel gingerly tore the loaf in half and handed it to Lord Wyldon. She retreated to her corner of the cell and ate awkwardly, in short bursts. The bread only slated her hunger, but Kel dared not touch the cheese. She drank briefly from the drug and leaned back against the wall, closed her eyes and sighed. Her chest sank and her shoulders slumped.

Lord Wyldon looked at her callously at first, seeing only Mindelan, who had invoked such reactions in him but then his pride softened and his eyes gentled as he said in a soft, low voice;

"It isn't hopeless, Mindelan." Kel opened one eye and looked at him;

"What should I be hoping for, sir?" Lord Wyldon was shocked but he kept his face straight and still.

"Rescue?" He was trying to probe out Mindelan, to find out what was wrong.

"Why should I be rescued? I'm the _Lady _Knight, no decent knight would associate with me. Not any conservative at any rate." Kel turned her face away, to hide the tear that slipped down her face.

"Mindelan…." Only the trembling of her lower lip let onto Wyldon exactly how frightened she was. She was trying to keep up a brave front. To keep her pride…In front of him. After all that he had seen of her and what he had done, she was still worried about what he thought. She kept up a brave front, for him? Why would she do such a thing?

"Keladry…." She turned at that and Wyldon kept gong, pushing past his hesitance. "Fear is an acceptable thing." Wyldon watched as her eyes opened and hardened, in her shame.

"Is it? A knight isn't fearful. A knight is chivalrous, honorable and kind. Not afraid." Wyldon gritted his teeth. He knew what was wrong. And he was the cause of it.

"We can't be perfect, Keladry. Knights can be afraid. Knights too, cannot always manage to pull everyone through, safe and sound. They were causalities of war."

"But I should have. I'm the hero, Protector of The Small." Wyldon's shoulders slumped, regretful. He took one step forward and put his hand under Kel's chin, forcing her head up. His obsidian eyes were warm and kind, welcoming Kel into their depths.

"Guilt over living, when the rest dies? Even the vaunted Protector of the Small isn't a god."

"No, I'm not. But it's my fault, even you can't deny that." Wyldon thought he saw her eyes become suspiciously glossy.

"Only true commanders can feel in such a way. Be thankful that you can feel, for that makes you the great the leader that you are. Weep for them, Keladry, but you cannot weep forever." Kel said nothing but she felt the ponderous weight on her heart lighten, the tightness in her chest eased a little. Wyldon too knew what it felt like to be guilty. But Wyldon continued;

"Always a piece of you will cry for them, Keladry. To be a knight does not mean that you are infallible."

"But isn't that what you set me up against? Every time I didn't measure up 'I-was-the-girl-who-couldn't-do-anything'." Even if you didn't say it, I knew."

"I apologize, Keladry. But you are no longer on probation and I no longer think of you that way. I have learned my lesson.." Wyldon could feel the excess water flooding his eyes and his throat tightened, truly, he regretted his actions. This was his mess; he would have to clean it up. After a time, Kel rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and drew a deep breath. She stared at the floor saying nothing and Wyldon stretched then walked back to his side of the cell and slide down the wall. His face looked more lined than ever and his eyes were wearied. Despite her own problems, Kel fought her maternal instincts.

Wyldon was unsure how to break the silence. It wouldn't do if he mentioned his dogs, not with the predicament that Mindelan was currently in. In fact, he could really mention nothing at all, for he really knew nothing about what Mindelan the person enjoyed, not just Knight Mindelan…That state would have to be remedied.

Once again, the door began to creak open and the bolts in the hinges scraped and screeched, protesting angrily at renewed function. The same soldier tramped in, and grabbed the crook of Wyldon's arm. Wyldon rose to his feet and the soldier pulled him along, his taut arm serving as the string for the puppet.

A short time later, the door opened again and Kel got to her feet to investigate. But a pair of soldiers grabbed her, bringing her along a gray corridor into another door. There was a bed resplendent with four corner posts, complete with restraining chains. Wyldon was there too, sitting in a straight backed chair, the back against his chest. He was silent and a line of blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

The soldiers tied her wrists, set her on the edge of the bed and departed, competent and uncommunicative. Suddenly Stephen was in the room and he clapped his hands and said;

"What fun I shall have! Lady knight, you are indeed a catch. And my Lord Wyldon, what I shall be able to do with you. Such a fine pair!" His chuckle was light, gay and entirely insane. Kel drew even breaths and tried not to shake with fear. Never before had she been so terrified. But then again, she had never been in such a situation before. Stephen walked over to her, his crimson swishing against the stone floor.

His hair was back in a single braid and he had a knife in one hand. He cut Kel's bonds and threw them to the ground and seemed amused by Kel's one instant glance towards the door;

"No escape for you, my darling. I have not yet taken my enjoyment from you." He bared his teeth in a feral manner. Kel bit her lip and stared at the door. Stephen stroked her hair and leaned in to gently nibble her neck. Kel felt nothing, just empty inside. She took solace there, inside her mind, where this wasn't really happening. She didn't hear the sharp intake of breath from the other side of the room and the muted growl of outage. Kel felt chilled. Stephen fastened the chains to her wrists and ankles, forcing her into a spread eagle position.

First he ran his hand down her chest, then he began to remove her clothing. The end of the bed board was high so Wyldon couldn't see what he was doing. Stephen beckoned him with one bejeweled finger, and the chains on his ankles and one around his waist that bond him to the chair all fell away. As he saw the state of Kel, nude, her eyes clenched tight and her fingers clutched into fists, embarrassed and no doubt humiliated, Wyldon filled with a murderous rage as what had been done to one of his knights. _His_Mindelan didn't deserve this. He glanced at Stephen with anguished eyes and murder on his heart and his eyelids began to droop as he remembered one dark evening with Kel;

_Kel looked at the results for tomorrow's matches and groaned; she was jousting with Wyldon of Cavall._

"_Cleon, you'd best call the coffin maker and order me a box." Cleon (Wyldon) chuckled and then said;_

"_Mithros, you're going to die a virgin." _

In the cell with Stephen, Kel's eyes snapped open as she heard Wyldon repeat the line that Cleon had said over three years ago. Wyldon's eyes were hazy and he still held his hands together, apparently unaware that Stephen had cut his bonds. Kel's breath hitched in the throat as she squirmed away from Wyldon, who sat on the edge of the bed, his long slender fingers smoothly ran down from her hip to her knee.

_Cleon (Wyldon) lifted one eyebrow as Kel replied;_

"_Well we'd best get back to your tent and fix that!!" A fire ignited within him as Kel ground her hips against him and kissed him passionately. _

Kel took a deep breath, feeling as if she was drowning and tried to shrink away from Wyldon as he lay down on top of her, taking control of her mouth and caressing her. Kel lay as a corpse, as Wyldon made love to her. All Kel could keep telling herself was that it wasn't Wyldon's fault. He wasn't doing this, he wasn't raping her. Wyldon would never do that. And Stephen sat and watched, in euphoria, his eyes gazing hungrily. When at last, Wyldon lay spent, Kel said nothing, nor did she move, except for the tears falling down her glistening cheeks.

Stephen snapped his fingers and two guards removed Wyldon, his head lolling to one side, unconscious. Stephen unclasped his robe and leaned over her, whispering into her ear;

"That was very enjoyable, I must remember to thank Lord Wyldon. 'Tis a pity he won't remember but I was the one who instituted the memory, only I will remember. Except for the tremendous pain that the spell causes, that he will indeed remember. And now, my dear, I think I will follow Lord Wyldon's lead and take my fill of you." A little while later when Stephen gasped and panted, he said;

"I think my guards need a little diversion, don't you? In your cell of course. I'm sure Lord Wyldon won't object, will you?" It was all Kel could do to speak.

"No, never…."Stephen's eyes flashed and he shouted;

"You will do it; otherwise your Lord Wyldon will die by the most torturous means I can devise." Stephen drew one hand down the curve of her neck and she shuddered, she felt so used, unclean. Cold.

"I will." Kel said and she fought back the scream that raged in her throat as Stephen fulfilled his desire. Then he said

"I think my dear, for your earlier disobedience that I will send you to have a little fun with Sean, my right hand man. He does such good work, really he does. Pain is his specialty and his pleasure." Kel let out a moan.

"Guard!"

"Yes, my lord?"

"Is Sean finished with the other matters I assigned?"

"No, my lord. But if you wish my lord I will fetch him."

"No. I am done with the Lady Knight."

"My lord?"

"You will take her to her cell. I will not require your services for an hour at least. But the Lady Knight must be delivered to Sean in two hours. Alive. Otherwise I will be most displeased." Kel's eyes shot open. Not more?

"Yes, of course, my lord, it will be done as you wish." Stephen leapt up and pulled on his robe, then strode out of the room. The soldier wrenched off the manacles and dragged Kel. It took her a minute to shake off her fatigue and then she began to struggle as he pulled her down the hallway. She planted her feet firmly and stood. He pulled on the chain fastened round her neck and she resisted, the tendons and muscles in her neck standing out. Suddenly, he let out the slack and Kel fell towards him. He grabbed her, and Kel thrust her knee into his groin.

"Ugh! You'll pay for that bitch!" He grabbed her round the neck and hit her head once, twice against the wall. Kel slumped, stunned. He lugged her down the hallway back to the cell.

As Wyldon woke, his head pounded and his body ached. He shivered and he realized that he was naked. He drew on the gray shirt and hose that lay, crumpled, on the floor of the cell. He leaned his head against the wall; the cool stone eased the bludgeoning pain that went through it. The soldier discarded Kel casually on the floor and entered into the cell.

"The wall, my lord Wyldon." Wyldon obeyed, he had seen the petty look in other's eyes before, the mark of a bully.

"Not fast enough, My Lord." The spear butt thumped into his left elbow. Wyldon gritted his teeth, determined not to show pain.

"I've been hit harder by first year pages, first time with a stave." His defiance was marked by the spear point that hovered inches from his eye.

"Move. Now." He wasn't nearly intimidating enough to actually frighten Wyldon but Wyldon did as he was commanded, wary of the spear point. He wasn't nearly stupid enough to actually attempt anything with a spear point so very near to his eyes. He wasn't going to get debilitated just to prove to some bully that he wasn't afraid, that would be exceptionally pointless. The soldier locked the manacles about his wrists and ankles, pulling his arms above his head and forcing Wyldon to stand upright. The soldier left, leaving the door open, and returned with Mindelan. Could he actually refer to her that way anymore? He flinched at the sight of her, bruises all about her, her upper arms, neck, and face. What had happened to her?

"Now, you be quiet, I'll not have you interrupt my fun." As he drew down his hose, Wyldon shuddered. Not Keladry. No one deserved that, least of all her. Her integrity and faithfulness to her men, her leadership made her exquisite. Not exactly what a noblewoman should be, but Wyldon had never preferred defenseless females. His respect had raised a few notches after some of the rumors he had heard about what had happened to her. Conservatives, they might have been. But that didn't give Joren's father the right to treat her so. Or any of the others. Or himself, for that matter. But she had born them with all the patience, humility and strength of a true knight. He wouldn't let it happen. Never.

''Don't!" His distress broke free in a single word.

"My Lord Wyldon, I won't spoil her for you. One more won't harm anything, will it?" His tone was friendly and cheerful as he pulled Kel up against the wall.

"Take me instead, just not her." Kel was sure that this was just a delirium. Wyldon would never say such a thing, not for her, would he?

"Sorry, my lord, I'm not really into that sort of thing. My Lord Stephen might however." Wyldon flinched. Had Stephen touched her? That would account for all the bruises. The soldier continued with his task and Wyldon could do nothing except turn his eyes away and close them and pray that it would be all over. He never noticed the tears the traced solitary tracks down his face.

As Kel woke, her whole body felt on fire, and as she looked at all the bruises she had accumulated, she knew why and it made her sick. On all fours, she crawled to the edge of the cell, retching up the remains of the meager meal that she had consumed earlier. The chain clanked on the stone. Wyldon straightened and said:

"Keladry?" It was no louder than a whisper, but Kel heard it as if she were standing next to him. She tried to use her arms to cover herself but realized that his eyes were shut.

"Yes, my lord?"

"I'm sorry." Twice. That was twice that he had apologized to her for things that he had absolutely no control over whatsoever.

"I'm fine, my lord." She almost laughed when she saw him grimace,

"Don't be ridiculous, Mindelan. You most certainly are not. But considering I'm the one tied up at the moment, there isn't much that I can do about it." She did start laughing, but that made her ribs hurt, which in turn made her head pound and she vomited again, in the corner of the room. No sense in getting two corners dirty. She was getting hysterical, no doubt in shock. Breathe, Mindelan, you survived being a page and a knight, not to be conquered by a she-man mage, with maniacal psychopathic tendencies. But it felt so good to pretend, that she was still alright.

The other soldier came back and gently led Kel out. Wyldon heard the footsteps thudding outside the corridor and sighed when he realized that yet again he was alone and Mindelan was the one bearing the brunt of everything. Slowly, he drifted off to sleep, his arms and legs asleep from the tension on the chains. Ignoring the aches and pains wasn't too hard, he'd done it before…

In an instant he stood upright and alert at the sound that reverberated through the stone. It was an animalistic sound, a shrill scream that sounded as if the animal was dying. Mindelan wasn't in the cell. Could she have made such a primal and so very desperate sound?

Kel was in agony. Sean had used her and then, had grabbed his 'favorite' knife.

"Only the best for you, slut." Kel made a little whimper through her gag even as she willed herself not to. Sean's knife ran confidently, leaving blood swelling from a wound on her chest. The blade ran lines down her back, making Kel arch in torment, pulling against the chains that bond her. Then he leaned close and asked;

"More of me or my knife?" Kel almost cried at the choice. She curled inwards and watched through swollen slits of eye as Sean walked to the edge of the wall, to a table. With her arms and legs bond, she could only wiggle and squirm, to get away. Anything to get away. As she moved, centimeter by centimeter, abusing her wounded body even further, Sean walked up behind her. He grabbed her hair and pulled her upright.

"Where do you think you're going, bitch?" His voice had a nasty edge, and he fingered the knife at his belt.

"Did I give you permission to move anywhere, slave?" In an instant he grabbed the knife from his belt and stabbed it through Kel's leg, the blade protruding from the other side and fitting neatly into the chinks between the floor stones. He let go of her hair, and Kel was forced to keep herself upright to prevent the blade from slicing down to her knee. She screamed in agony. Kel was immobilized and Sean brought the heavy whip up over his head, flogging Kel. The whip bit into her back, flaying the skin, until nothing could be seen but blood. Finally, mercifully Kel fell into unconsciousness, only wishing that it was death.

The noise of armor clad boots made a thumping sound on the stone and Wyldon, his knees bent and body ready for action, his dark eyes piercing. The door swung open with a creak and the two soldiers hefted their burden in, tossing in a grey woolen blanket as well.

"We'll come again and see you, Lady Wench. Don't use her too much, My Lord, she isn't really in the mood." The first soldier said and he laughed, making a rude gesture with his fingers. The second, older man however looked grim and walked up to Wyldon. The younger man made for the exit, door slamming shut. He unchained Wyldon, with a mumbled apology and strode out. Wyldon released a breath he hadn't been aware of holding, he wasn't sure what he would have done if they hadn't let him go.

When he leaned and grabbed the lacerated wrist of Mindelan, she shuddered away from him. Gently, tenderly he tucked the blanket around Mindelan's battered bloody body. All Wyldon could do was cradle her body in his arms and try so desperately to deny the truth before his eyes.

_This was the Lady Knight.._

_This fear was Mindelan. .._

_This ruin was____Keladry…_

_And Wyldon wasn't sure he could piece her together again, no matter his care._

**Author's Note:**

This chapter took a long time to write. I didn't know how explicit to be, and whether or not Kel would tell Wyldon what had actually happened. I think I found a pretty good middle ground for the rape scenes and I made the decision about Wyldon being told. On the other hand, I feel almost as though Wyldon and Kel are OOCish, and I need you to help me with that.

I have never actually been either raped or tortured, so I apologize if it is unrealistic or if the fic is wrongly rated for the material contained within.

The inspiration for this story came in this chapter. I had this thought about what Wyldon would think if he was told of the conversation that Kel and Cleon have in Lady Knight about jousting with Lord Wyldon. And then I just blatantly stuck Wyldon in the middle of it, and pushed it a little farther. Adding of course the attraction between Wyldon and Kel.

And I even, for a while, thought that Wyldon should have a son, whom Kel would fall in love with, but then Kel/Wyldon seemed to…be right for this story. So Lionel as I called him, is on the back burner for the moment. But if he comes back I could write a paternal relationship between Wyldon and Kel. I'll get there eventually…

In the meantime, read and review!


	3. Remembering

**Title: **I Mustn't Love You

**Subchapter: **Remembering  
**Author name:** DocJorgensen  
**Category:** Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Friendship, Romance.  
**Keywords:** Keladry, Wyldon  
**Rating:** K+, possible T.  
**DISCLAIMER:** Lady Muse commands me and I obey, but I, alas, own nothing.  
**Author Notes:** Sorry for the slow update, and I really have been trying to work on this chapter but I couldn't make it work. Really. I've been fiddling around with it, half written for about a year now. It was so awkward and I couldn't figure out a way to make it work, until I rewrote, like, half of it. So, enjoy, peeps.

To help prevent this situation in the future, I would love a beta reader.

And then, curses, my computer deleted this updated chapter and I had to slay my computer before I could find the updated chapter.

Shakes head. This chapter is **so **annoying.

**Dedication: **To Mr. Holland, in hopes that I too, may receive a hug in the future.

**WARNING! Contains mention of rape, and graphic depictions of torture. **

"Remembering"

Wyldon dozed, his arms draped around her protectively. When he woke, it was to the older soldier tapping on his shoulder and he instinctively shielded Keladry with his body, crouching on all fours on the floor.

"Come along." Wyldon wrenched to his feet, and stooped and pick up Keladry, holding her securely in his arms. Only the beating of her heart, tantalizing to Wyldon, kept him going. It was slow, and Wyldon died a thousand deaths between each beat. His breath caught in his chest and he whispered slow, desperate prayers.

"Mother Goddess, let her live… Please, I beseech thee, - let each beat come." It was slow and Wyldon died a thousand deaths between each beat, holding his breath until each beat came.

He wasn't sure when he had come to feel so for Keladry, this raging emotion inside of him, was unlike anything he had ever felt before. After she had kept being a page, even after everything that he and the others had thrown at her, he had hid it, certainly but it was there. And after the Needle incident before her Squire test, Wyldon had started to feel glimmers of affection for her. Then when he had jousted her, he had certainly felt something slightly beyond the realm of affection. Could he dare think that he was attracted to her?

A grimace fell on his face, New Hope. When she had done that, so foolhardily, so bravely, his heart had wept at her fate. For Wyldon knew, that either way she rode, whether back to him or to face the mage, she was riding to death.

But his heart skipped a beat when she returned and he knew then, that he loved her but he had hidden it, deeply. How could she return his love, he who was so much older and had criticized her so?

The stone floor was rough and cool on his bare feet and he lost count of his steps. Finally the soldier to a halt pointed at the door and crossed his arms, leaning against the opposite wall. Wyldon extracted one arm from the bundle that was Keladry and pulled the door open, shutting it with a slam.

The room was misty and condensation drooled down the cracks between the blocks. There was a single bath of goodly size in the center of the room, and Wyldon walked to it.

Slowly and carefully, he lowered her into the bath, the blanket sliding to the floor. A reddish haze slicked on the top of the water and Wyldon, seeing no soap, rolled up his sleeve to the elbow and felt around in the bottom of the tub for the bar of soap.

Retrieved, it felt more like a rock than a bar of soap. Raising a lather was near to impossible, Wyldon discovered.

"Damn." He discarded the useless bar and picked up the washcloth, draped on the edge of the tub. Keladry's face was covered by her hair and he gently pushed it away, revealing a blood encrusted face. When he did so, she moved away from his touch and Wyldon stiffened.

But what pushed Wyldon beyond his state of shock was the agony that stretched across her face, from the lines around her mouth to the way she clenched her eyes shut even when she was unconscious. As he glanced down he body, only a feeling of anger and protectiveness was awakened, not arousal.

"That gods-damned bastard." He ground out, his eyes felt wet and he hit the floor, ignoring the sudden pain in his fingers. In that instant, Wyldon knew he loved her. Had loved her, the instant she had stood straight and tall and told him that she had fallen down instead of the truth.

Tenderly he raised her head, moistening the cloth and rubbed away the blood caked on her face. For an instant, he caressed her hair, giving into his feelings temporarily. Her nose was swollen badly, and the whole side of her face was various shades of purple. Next her shoulder, a gash, mildly deep but still it made his gut clench.

'Calm down, Wyldon, for Mithros' sake. You've held knights whose bloody guts spilled out on your lap and cried with them as they were dying,' but never had he felt this way. So very full of emotion, protective and angry and guilty and _hurt_ all at once.

Having realized the extent of her injuries, Wyldon gently pulled her from the tub. Water would be a help, in cleaning her wounds, but some of them would need to be bandaged and to do so in the water was a foolhardy plan. He placed her on the discarded blanket and let out a heavy breath, trying to bite back his anger helplessly. He continued to look over her injuries.

The scratches on her neck, half crescents, were no doubt made by Stephen. Lacerations on her wrists and ankles, manacles tearing her flesh as she pulled away from him. He felt at them gently, trying to ignore her soft moan of pain as she pulled away from him, which made his heart skip a beat. The bones weren't broken thankfully and Wyldon unrolled his shirt sleeves. He tore the unrolled sleeves into strips. Taking one, he gently wrapped her wrist and then the other.

A long gash on her stomach, wrapping around from her hip, deep and narrow. Wyldon cleaned that gently, probing delicately with his fingers. Good, the wound wasn't deep enough to have hit her internal organs. Ignoring the ragged fabric that was his shirt, he shrugged it over his head and ripped it into quarters. Padding one of the quarters up, he placed it gently on the long gash and applied pressure. Keeping his hand there would be a problem so he picked up one of the strips of his shirt and tied it round the pad of shirt, in a makeshift bandage.

Wyldon hissed in shared pain and pulled in a shaky breath when he reached her hips and legs. So much damage. Rape wasn't a pretty thing; by any measure but when Keladry resembled nothing so much as chopped beef it made him want to vomit. But there was nothing he could do, besides wipe away the crusted blood gently. He had no healing mage talent, nor was he particularly skilled in the art of healing, what little knowledge he had, he had picked up via many battlefields and a whole host of wounds.

It was when he was bent over, examining the puncture wound in her leg, that Keladry regained consciousness. She immediately started to shiver, almost uncontrollably and flinched away when Wyldon placed a folded piece of his shirt on the wound, applying pressure. She gave a slight moan.

She raised one arm from the blanket, ignoring the pain and poked his bare shoulder with her forefinger.

"Mindelan, stop that." The words that came growling out of his mouth, surprised Wyldon even more then they did Kel.

He turned and Kel almost giggled at the way his hair stuck up in the back. Her next question paralyzed him even more than her emotionless glassy eyes.

"What happened, sir?" It was all he could do to keep from gaping at her. She didn't remember! But he didn't know, not all of it.

"Nothing happened, Mindelan". Kel nearly rolled her eyes despite her pain. Did Lord Wyldon think her a fool and an imbecile? On the other hand, Kel thought, he very well might. I was the one who was always getting hurt and coming up with idiotic excuses, wasn't I?

"Sir, please." Kel had asked him nicely, holding in her annoyance and frustration but Wyldon did not answer her, just tying the knot of the bandage he had wrapped around the injury in her leg. Kel whimpered and was silent.

Wyldon instantly felt a strong flash of guilt and he looked up from Keladry's leg, seeking out her face. Oh gods, that he was causing her pain. Keladry ground her teeth together and her fingers deeply clenched into fist, and Wyldon stared at her face for an instant, for Keladry had her eyes shut and wouldn't notice and she was so very beautiful despite her pain.

Wyldon wanted to stroke her hair and clutch her to his chest and tell her it would be all right but her pride and his dignity assassinated that notion even as he thought it. Kel quickly opened her eyes and blushed, deeply embarrassed. Wyldon was staring at her, and must have heard her whimper.

But suddenly Kel had even greater cause for embarrassment, she wasn't wearing any clothing and she tried to cover herself with her arms but to no avail.

What drove Wyldon to say what he did, he didn't know, perhaps his embarrassment and shame.

Your body doesn't interest me, Mindelan. I am married." He brushed aside her hands and continued to wash her cuts and marred skin. Part of Wyldon was ashamed at what he had said but parts also felt lucky to be touching her in this way, despite the cause.

Kel burned with indignity and prideful rage. Not only at what he was doing to her and what he was seeing, but what he said. It raised her hackles that he would say such a thing, especially with the coil of arousal deep inside that would like nothing more than to pull him onto the blanket with her and see what resulted.

Especially considering his current state of undress. He might have been on the wrong side of thirty, but that didn't mean that his hips weren't slim and his shoulders wide and muscled, and a flat clearly defined stomach, and long, lean legs. Riding a horse was definitely good for the man.

Her body might not be willowy and thin, but she had muscle and the curves of her hips and breasts more than made up for that. But no doubt his wife was thin and gorgeous, with a fortune and a title to boot. Her anger and attraction sank into despair and she was troubled by the vague fog that hung over her memories and Kel sank into reverie.

Even as she desperately tried to remember and penetrate the darkness in her mind, a sense of unease filled her, made her tense and knotted her muscle, increasing the pain that penetrated deeply into every part of her.

"Lean forward, will you?" Wyldon snarled, frustrated with himself and with Mindelan. Her inability to articulate her pain left Wyldon guessing as to where she was actually injured, and in attempting to see as little of Mindelan as possible to ease her embarrassment left Wyldon in a constant game of guess and check for her injuries. Kel's thoughts fell into chaos as she leaned forward, meekly obeying the order, and the fragments came back.

Wyldon, sweat, chains, Stephen, rape, _**no, no, no, no, NO!**_

Kel needed to be numb. Not to feel the shame and embarrassment that she was feeling, Wyldon needed to get away.

She was dirty. Broken, useless.

Wyldon cleaning yet more gauges on her back, thought that he had pained her for she had suddenly tensed. The strength of Kel's revulsion and nausea left her shaking and chilled and she wrapped her arms around herself and tried to roll into a ball.

Wyldon must get away, must not see her like this. She couldn't bear him near her. Wyldon needed to get away. NOW!

Kel grabbed his elbow in a crushing grip and Wyldon's head whipped around and he stared at his elbow in what seemed an iron vice and then glanced at Keladry, her face set in a snarl and her pupils huge, so that it seemed that she had no iris. Wyldon shivered, her eyes promised death and as he looked it was almost as if he stared into the gates of Hell itself.

"Dear Mithros." What had happened? Wyldon's hands shook as he looked at Kel.

"_Leave me. Mine is not a filth you can scrub away."_ Kel rasped. Wyldon shook his head and tried to bend back to his task, only to find his arm still entirely immobile in Keladry's harsh grip. He tried to pull away futilely and then Keladry spoke again through clenched teeth, though she seemed weary.

"Get away from me, Wyldon" Wyldon didn't move, Keladry held him firm, and as though she woke suddenly she released his elbow and said;

"Please, just leave me alone." Her voice was nearly a sob and her hand shook that held him. Still Wyldon stayed even though she no longer held him. She had called him by his name. Wyldon had no though of obeying her command, after whatever she had been through, he wouldn't, couldn't leave her alone. Never again.

But what could he say? Nothing. But she had called him by his name. He was not angry but rather confused. What could propel her to call him by his name?

Kel realized that he was still there.

"GO! Leave, please just leave." Kel shrank from Wyldon, scraping and crawling along the cold stone floor, no longer angry and commanding but timid and docile. Her shoulders shook as she tried to hide her sobs. She was a filthy, dirty whore.

But Wyldon could not leave her. Making himself as small as possible, he moved closer to Mindelan and tried to reach out to her. She whimpered again and drew back, pressing herself hard against the stone floor.

Wyldon tried again, inching closer to Mindelan, he said;

"Shh, shh, Min – Keladry. I'll not hurt you. Be still." 'Please,' Wyldon added in his mind. She stilled, curled in a small ball. Her eyes, diming, dull with pain and fear, send a stab of guilt to Wyldon's heart. Whatever had happened he wanted to fix it, soothe away Mindelan's fear and pain.

What he really wanted to do was lay her down, and with a slow hand, to ease away the hurts, with caresses soft and slow [1]. And claim her as his darling.

But Mindelan shrank from him, and as she did, so did his dream of having her.

The door swung open and the younger soldier strode in, glancing at Kel, naked in the tub and then stepped to Lord Wyldon.

"Lord Stephen wishes to see you." Wyldon paid him no heed.

"I have no wish to see him. I cannot desert one of my knights." He would not. Never. Not with Keladry in such dire straits, the way she shrank from him, frightened of… Of him?!?

"Oh, then it is his command." The soldier rasped, thunking his spear butt angrily on the stone floor.

"Still, I will not go."

"I don't think you have any choice in the matter, Lord Wyldon." The soldier bristled at his ignored command and smashed the spear butt against his shoulders. Wyldon turned, defiant and yet dismayed at the same time. If he ignored the soldier, he might hurt Keladry yet more. And it was his duty to protect her. But still, darkness permeated his thoughts.

Why was Keladry acting in such a way? Why had she said such things about herself? Wyldon was lost in thought. What had caused her sudden change?

Surely, she wasn't _afraid_ of him?

What could he have done? Could that be it? The very thought of it sent Wyldon into a spiral of shame. He walked further than previously, up several flights of stairs. Entering into a brightly lit part of the castles, decorated with tapestries, made Wyldon blink furiously.

Still the soldier led him on until they reached a double door on which the soldier rapped politely:

"My Lord Wyldon, Master Stephen." Wyldon's lip curled. 'Master' Stephen, indeed. He didn't deserve the title. The soldier saluted respectfully, to which Wyldon resisted a snarl. He would show Stephen some respect. The soldier left through the doors, leaving Wyldon all alone with Stephen.

Wyldon stood on crimson carpets as Stephen looked him up and down; and suddenly he smirked and stood up, walking around him, taking his full measure. Stephen lounged, for there was no other word for it, and rested his chin on one white hand.

Wyldon noticed that his immaculate robes were not the same as the ones he had seen before, but dismissed it, surely a precocious mage, pretend lordling had more than one outfit.

"If I hadn't taken such amusement from the Lady, you indeed would be fulfilling." His eyes flickered up and down Wyldon's body and one side of his mouth curved.

But Wyldon, though the thought of any such frivolities taken of himself would have roused him to anger, was too worried about Keladry to take any offense and seized instantly upon what Stephen had said, though that too, raised his wrath.

"What did you do to her?" Wyldon growled, not loud, a whisper, but terrifying in its bestiality. He was so threatening with his dark eyes snapping fire that Stephen involuntarily shuddered back before he recovered himself.

"I think I prefer you angry, Wyldon pet. In such a state you arouse me so, dearest." Stephen pronounced. Stephen stood up in a great flounce of silk robes and he leaned forward, and slipped one thin arm around Wyldon's back, firmly grasping one hip with a slight hand. Wyldon barely noticed, so intent on learning what had happened.

"What did you do to Mindelan?" Stephen gave a slight laugh and a squeeze.

"Why so intent on her, pet?"

"She is one of _my_ knights." Wyldon dared not even claim her as one of his friends, he didn't deserve that.

"And yet you call her by her last name? My, you are cold. But I think I can live with that." Stephen stepped closer, nearly resting his chin on Wyldon's shoulder, running his finger up and down Wyldon's chest, close to purring with pleasure.

Wyldon seized Stephen's wrist tightly and flung it away from him. Stephen seemed not to notice however, and slide round Wyldon's back, his breath brushing the back of Wyldon's neck, wakening suspicion and revulsion all in once instant.

"It is not my place to call her by her first name." And indeed, it was not.

"Is it that terrible, I find the name rather nice. Keladry. Kel-ad-ry. Fitting for her, don't you think? Oh, but you wouldn't know."

"What do you mean?" Stephen had turned from pitying and condescending to cutting in an instant.

"You Tortallans! The second female knight to have _graced_ your ranks in hundreds of years, and you demean her, calling her a whore. I hear one of your own even offered to make it worth her while to bed him." Stephen's hand had strayed down to Wyldon's groin, and although Wyldon flinched, he covered it quickly.

Sex was Stephen's game and his pleasure. Male or female, apparently it didn't matter. The thought chilled Wyldon, made him want to fling himself from Stephen and get as far away as possible. Such things, though they had been done to him before, were not something that he wanted to repeat.

"Your soldiers have done him one better." He said roughly, grabbing Stephen's hand and holding it. Stephen's eyes narrowed, he snatched his hand away.

"I wish I could claim to have done him one better, as the first. But I can only offer that honor to you, Lord Wyldon. Congratulations!" Wyldon's rage burst and he had managed only one blow before the guard rushed through the door and managed to bind him.

"No, I didn't!" Wyldon roared, struggling futilely with the guards.

Stephen had one bright pink spot on his cheekbone and clutched his ribs, where Wyldon had kneed him, almost sputtering with wrath

"Damn you! You'll have none of my attentions."

"As if I wished for them! I could care less, _bastard!_" Wyldon snarled from his place on the floor, and the soldiers proceeded to choke him with a length of his spear. But this insult only pushed Stephen and he continued;

"Ask her. Ask her who dirtied her first! Ask her, who took her virginity! _ASK THE WHORE!" _Wlydon's whole world was red, clouded by his murderous rage as Stephen's last shouts echoed in his head and down the corridors. How could Stephen have said such a thing?

Wyldon had done no such thing. He would never have taken advantage of a female charge in such a manner. Or a male either.

Rape was not something pleasurable or acceptable. He was a knight, he had a moral code and he followed it. He would never bed someone unwilling, nor would he make love to someone under his direct charge.

Bed a student? Never! Not even a girl. Even though he had heard the rumors that Alanna had spread about why he hadn't wanted a girl page under him. Admittedly Alanna had been upset, and with good cause, as Wyldon had acted as though he had a lance stuck up into his nether regions, but he would never sink to such perversions.

But indeed, the thought made his blood boil and burn, not only did the enemy regard in such a way, but that the Knights of Tortall, supposed to be noble, were of the same school of thought! Cold shame soon settled on him, for he had been one of those knights.

He may not have demeaned her as a whore, but he had certainly demeaned her. Putting her on probation! What had he been thinking?

And though he had never heard a whisper of it, could those pages and squires have been forcing themselves on her? He would never have heard any of it, she was too proud to complain but admittedly neither would he have allowed her to complain.

Wyldon grimaced, no doubt she thought that she would have been thrown out.

The soldier, impatient with his progress, jabbed the center of his back with his spear. Wyldon stiffened and forced his anger down, realizing that now was not the time to attack. He walked faster, almost a jog. But the quickened pace was not what made his heart race or his pulse pound in his skull. It was the anger that raged through his veins and made his whole frame hum with the intensity of it.

The soldier stopped in front of the cell door, his spear dangling loosely from his hands. Wyldon grinned, a vicious, animalistic smile that showed his canines. The soldier was relaxed. Off-guard. He probably thinks I'm old, not going to pull anything, either that or he's just an idiot. Wyldon wouldn't be surprised if that were the case.

He pretended to stumble, falling on one knee on the floor. The idiot soldier, for he really was an idiot, turned back, looked at Wyldon and said;

"Get up." You won't be condescending for much longer, Wyldon thought. Outwardly he gave a groan.

"My knee, I…" Wyldon pretended to stand. "Ahhh…Damn!" Then proceeded to fall back to the floor. Which was cold and hard and really did make his knee hurt. The soldier sighed impatiently and took a step closer, and proceeded to try and reach Wyldon's elbow, to pull him up off the floor.

The soldier never had a chance to be older and wiser. Wyldon never gave him a chance. Wyldon grabbed the soldier's forearm, and pulled himself up with it, his knee extended, punching into the soldier's groin.

"I don't play fair." Wyldon growled, and with his other hand grabbing above the soldier's elbow joint, brought it down on his knee. _Crunch. _The soldier's elbow snapped like wood, and the soldier's face when white.

"Please…" the soldier pleaded, "Don't kill me! I haven't done anything!"

"You haven't done anything?" Wyldon repeated in shock, softly. Wyldon's anger stoked and he roared, heedless of the consequences and slammed the soldier against the wall.

"You have done too much, RAPIST! You do not deserve mercy. Nor will I give it. Say a prayer to your gods." With that, Wyldon swiftly palmed the soldier's nose, driving the bones up into his brain, killing him instantly. The lifeless corpse dropped to the floor.

Wyldon grimaced. He wouldn't be able to hide the body. The fact that he had killed didn't bother him. The soldier had raped his Mindelan. He had tried to keep him prisoner. Admittedly badly. But the other soldiers in the garrison would soon know that one of the prisoners had escaped, at least temporarily. He bent down, and lifted up the corpse, slinging it over his shoulder, the muscles in his arms and torso flexing as he did so.

He walked silently along the corridor, his bare feet making no sound, his eyes constantly scanning for danger. Wyldon knew that he only had a limited amount of time, surely some one must have heard his yelling, and he needed to send a message or at least get some more information from one of the soldiers of the garrison. He spotted a small nock, with a tapestry covering it.

Odd, Wyldon thought, I haven't seen any other tapestries. Silently he entered, and dumped the corpse in the corner, reasoning that the chamber did not look consistently used and stood still for an instant.

The chamber only smelled faintly of blood, but there was something about it, something familiar that made him cock his head to the side and stare at the four poster bed… Something that he was missing…

Wyldon moved to pick up the manacle on the bed but stopped, motionless. Soldiers were coming, he could hear their heavy boots on the stone and he needed to move. For one single more instant he stared and then, anxiety making him nervous, ducked back out into the corridor.

But he saw no soldiers and so Wyldon ran, trying to find the stables. If he could find the stables, then he could send out Peachblossom. As annoying as the horse was, the gelding would return to Fort Hope safely enough, and alert the garrison as to their situation. Wyldon listened for the clanging feet of soldiers, but heard nothing, knowing that every minute was precious.

Wyldon fairly flew along the long corridor, the muscles in his long legs rejoicing in the burning. He had been cooped up too long. But he ran without caution, and thus when he passed the soldier's mess, one soldier saw him and gave out a cry of alarm.

Wyldon swore silently and ran faster, sprinting down the corridor, the rough stone bruising and skinning his feet. A sharp corner, and Wyldon ignored the stone shredding his feet, his heart beating faster and faster. The soldiers were following him, heavy clanging and shouting only feet behind him.

'Damn'. He never would make it to the stables. 'Lord Mithros, what I have done to earn your wrath?' Wyldon asked, half serious, half caustic. He jumped over an inconveniently placed bench, and turned another corner, at last seeing the entrance to the outside, and hopefully a set of stairs to the courtyard and the stables.

Out in the courtyard, he ran towards the stables, but a cry of alarm came from the soldiers chasing him, alerted every soldier in the vicinity;

"Shut the gates! One of the prisoners is escaping!" Someone roared and Wyldon swore, again. The large gates were swinging shut slowly, but Wyldon still couldn't reach them in time. At the end of his sprint, seeing his objective vanishing, but unable to slow his speed, he rammed into the gates. He let out a string of swear words at the injustice of it all.

But Wyldon mastered himself and turned. At least twenty guards watched his every move, in a semi circle around him. One muscular, young guard stepped up. His light brown eyes glinted with cruelty.

"Hold him." 'Oh, he wanted a little fun, did he?' Thought Wyldon, 'Well, it would take a little bit more work than that to get him in line.'. Wyldon took no orders from any man, save his King.

"Try it." Wyldon dared him. He stood in a half crouch, hands gathered into fists, ready to spring. The first one who moved would die. At one gesture, one of the soldiers bearing a fuzzy moustache sprang forward, divested of any weapons.

"Stupid boy. Never equal the playing field." Wyldon got within striking distance and it was all over. One quick kick to the back of the knees forced the youth down to the ground, and Wyldon snapped his neck with one quick move. _Crack. _The corpse thudded on the ground.

The leading soldiered, said nothing, just gesturing again. This time, the whole group came towards and though Wyldon struggled, breaking ribs with an elbow here, shattering cheekbones and jaws there, he could not prevent them from restraining him.

They shackled his wrists and elbows behind his back, chaining his feet together so he could no longer run. They were so tight that he could not move without losing his balance and falling over. But still they held him.

The young leader, pushed his shoulders, so that he fell, heavily, onto his knees. He pushed his head back, baring his neck. Wyldon stared defiantly into his captor's face, his dark eyes burning.

The young soldier leisurely grabbed his neck, and inch by inch his tightening fingers forced Wyldon to gasp for breath. His lungs burned for air, his mouth made an odd sputtering noise.

The tight chokehold slowly throttled Wyldon, and eased him into the darkness. He knew no more.

[1] – Slow Hand, I'd Love To Lay You Down, and Hello Darlin' References, see Conway Twitty for further details.


End file.
